Seafoam Castles
by milkdromedas
Summary: Lance has what one may be able to call a near-death, close-encounter experience with a mer...person. No, really.
1. Chapter 1: Brace For It

**Hello! I haven't posted anything on here for at least five years, but I'm hoping this will count for motivation towards finishing this story. As such, in good nature, this has been cross-posted on Ao3 under the same name. I will upload chapters weekly until we're in sync with the story over there, and then I will begin to begin updating again somewhat bi-monthly.**

 **That out of the way, please enjoy!**

* * *

 _Alternate World_ , Son Lux:  
 _We'll shed our skin, we'll walk the other side. Oh-oh we'll brace for it, and conquer everything._

* * *

He can't really say _how_ he got into this situation, mostly because he doesn't remember. He only knows that one moment he was waving at Allura as she left, definitely _not_ staring at her backside because that's plain rude, and the next he looked to the other side and back and he was over one hundred metres away from the shore, drifting. This is his position at the moment- sitting on his board, the setting sun behind him, and his eyes closed, trying not to rage out in frustration.

Ah, shit.

He looks down to start swimming back, but then he sees _something_ , and he definitely Does Not yell. Instead, he quickly pulls his arms and legs up onto his board in case it is a _shark_ and is here to _eat_ him, because he is a quick-witted thinker, yes he is. And he is- well, scared. Just a little bit.

Hear him out, okay? He's fucking _entitled_ to his fear. It's getting late, he's lost, he's alone, and he can just see the shadow of whatever it may be underneath him. Of course he's fucking scared.

He curls into himself and tries not to be obvious about it, anyways. It's just chilly, he tells himself.

He looks down again, because he's morbid like that, and then- shit. He yelps and scoots back but there is nothing- his board is narrow and so he falls into the waters and the jaws of whatever is waiting to eat him. He has a moment where he forgets everything but the cold, cold water that surrounds him, and the gravity that tries to fill his mouth with water, and his arms flail with exertion and panic; he can't call for help, and he can't fucking do anything, because the water is dragging its fingers along his ankles and calves and he's about to die, he's about to die and his abuela is going to kill him.

He stops flailing, then, and resigns himself to have his last moments in the solitude of the ocean, but then he's… floating. And his first though is, of course, he can _swim_. But no. Swimming isn't being dragged to the (embarrassingly close) surface by a pair of arms, strong and calm and colder than the water; he takes a few deep breaths and ravels in the feeling of oxygen in his lungs for a second before he finally opens his eyes and tries to assess his situation.

He lets his vision adjust to the darkening sky and sees- yep, that same pair of creepy-ass eyes from before that stare at him like he were... chum? No. More like a weird piece of tin floating around? Which is, wow, _rude_. He is at _least_ plastic. Not _tin_.

 _Not the best moment_ , he tells himself.

Right. Focus. He's still about to die. He can't be thinking these kinds of things in his final moments because how ridiculous would that be? Plus, he would be letting Pidge have the last word on how his vanity will lead to his ultimate death, and he can _not_ allow that.

He's still paralysed in terror from the idea of what it may _be_ ; He watches it advance, navy eyes glowing with the ocean around them. He's just thinking, _shit, shit, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna fucking die_ , and nothing else- which really does not help his current state of mind, but well-, and when the thing comes to a stop right beneath Lance's chin, he honest-to-god whimpers.

Not his proudest moment, he admits.

The creature bobs up and down and doesn't move, and Lance is going blue because he's holding his breath. He stares into its eyes for a while, marvelling at the queer beauty of the moonlight reflecting off its irises, but then he yelps when he feels something scale-y and slime-y brush his feet and the eyes move closer.

 _Shit it's coming up, it's going to eat me_ , _shit_ , fucking _shit._

It has long hair and pale skin that shimmers as he moves, and it looks like-

Hold up.

What?

A boy. It looks like a boy. With gills on the side of its (his?) neck, but a _boy_.

Lance screams.

The thing, consequently, screams as well.

It is a horrible, screeching sound that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and Lance brings his hands up to his ears to shield from it because _wow_ , his ears are gonna bleed otherwise.

It swims backwards and slams into his board, and then it yelps again, making Lance want to push away and as far as he can but he's actually really, really scared, and so he just digs through his shock and says, "What the _fuck?"_

The thing turns its head at the sound of his voice. "Huh?"

Lance blanches. He wants to run away but he can't because _it_ is right beside his board and he doesn't know where he is, and the inky blackness of the ocean around him is, quite honestly, _terrifying_.

"What the- _shit_ are you?"

 _Shit_. That is all he can think of, apparently. If he's honest, it's probably his favourite word at the moment.

 _Focus!_

It clicks. Lance feels the Something against his feet again and he wants to cry, just a little.

"Do you- do you talk?"

The thing eyes him curiously, and clicks again.

Lance is two seconds away from losing his shit. _And_ his lunch.

"Could you, uh, could you move? Please?"

The thing clicks again. It doesn't move, though, and Lance has absolutely no idea of what to _do_.

He reaches out an arm and carefully pushes the thing to the side, trying not to think too much about the feeling of soft skin and bumpy scars. It thankfully, _thankfully_ goes willingly- and whatever else there may be brushes against his feet _again_.

Lance is really getting tired of this shit.

He looks down and sees… a tail. And he follows it up, up, up, until he meets the Thing's eyes and splashes away with yet another _manly_ yelp, making the Thing give him a look that clearly says, "Getting tired of your bullshit, Human."

But. A mermaid.

He is being hunted (?) by a mermaid.

What even is his life?

Lance is breathing heavy, now, and he has no idea of what is going to happen next, but he ever so slowly makes his way forward and then latches onto his board as quickly as he can, all this while the _mermaid (mer_ man _?)_ stares at him curiously, its eyes the only thing that are visible now- between his black, black hair and the rest of the ocean around them, now calm and dark, it's eerie. Like, _really_ eerie.

Lance looks away, even if he doesn't want to. He gets on his board and tries to look around, find his way, and he sees the glow of a city far away.

He feels the knot in his chest loosen a little. He takes a deep breath and thinks of Hunk and Pidge and Shiro, who are probably waiting for him with towels and warm soup. He breathes out in a sigh, something like calm beginning to make its trek from the pit of his stomach and into his fingers and toes.

He looks back towards the mer _person_ , ready to take farewell, but he doesn't see anything there- not a ripple, not a whisper, not a click. Just- darkness.

Lance doesn't give it much thought. It's quite relieving, really.

He tries not to, on his way back- instead he tries to distract himself, wondering if anyone saw him flailing and refused to help, thinking of how weird it is that he has no idea of how he wandered out so far.

He frowns. He doesn't know how long it was, but given by the brightness of stars overhead, he guesses that it was probably longer than he'd like.

When he gets to shore, he looks back into the endless waters and thinks of his wrinkly fingers and cold toes, sees a shimmering red over the moonlight that reflects to his left, and then-

"Lance!"

He turns, and all he just lived becomes imaginary when he looks at Pidge and Shiro coming over to him, eyes crinkled and worried, hands interwoven.

"Where were you, dude?"

He looks at Pidge. "What'dya mean? I out was surfing. I told you."

"Yeah, but at ten p.m.?" Pidge makes a face. "You're crazy, man."

Shiro touches Lance's arm with his cold, metal hand, and a look of concern on his face. "Come on, Lance," he says. "It's freezing out here. I think Hunk is making some tea for you."

He nods. They make to leave and after a second he joins them, too. He listens to Pidge chatter about the new recipe Hunk cooked up with some local fish, and about their plans for a new piece of technology, and he feels his toes start to warm a little bit.

Lance spares one more glance at the ocean, and it is not the breeze makes him shiver.


	2. Chapter 2: Watermelon Smiles

_Behind The Sea_ , Panic! At The Disco:

 _Don't you know, don't you know, that those watermelon smiles just can't ripen underwater?_

* * *

He knew he was not supposed to, but he did it anyways.

He knew it was going to lead him into trouble.

He just never thought it would be quite like this.

He huffs and curses in thought, swims away as fast as he is physically able to, doesn't look back. (Doesn't dare look back, afraid of scathing looks and waving tails, of words that cut as deep as glass at times). He's always been too much for his people. This he has known and wore with dignity for as long as he has lived; he is no stranger to the queer looks and signs his-the- people make in his wake. But that they would officially cast him out and leave him to his own devices in the lonely, vast ocean, honestly didn't cross his mind once.

He huffs again. How dare they? He's the best at hunting! He's lithe and fast and one of their best fighters, they can't just cast him out because he thinks different from them! Because he learnt to understand parts of the oh so stigmatised weird language! They can't. They can't.

But they did.

He growls in frustration, startling a school of fish nearby, and he takes a second to feel bad before the outrage from before hits him at full force again.

He doesn't know what else to do.

* * *

Let's make one thing as clear as possible: Lance has been many things in his life, but a coward he is not.

That he has avoided any interaction with the sea- even if he is currently living with it as his backyard- is just a simple causality, a hundred percent plausible. His life isn't all about surfing, after all, and neither is it about swimming or terrifying ocean creatures he is still not sure were even real. He has a job as a teacher's assistant in the local elementary school. He has a social life. He has a family.

Never mind that summer vacation began three days ago, all of his friends have something to do with the sea, and his family lives in a different country.

He's had a lot on his mind lately, that's all. He likes to live in a bubble of ignorance when he has the chance to not be the voice of reason in a room, thank you very much. (Yes, it happens, and yes, it is as unbelievable as it sounds, every single time).

But oh of course, life just loves to kick the shit out of his ambitions and spit on his face like if he were nothing. The one thing he wished for, the one thing that was taken from him, and he curses it all to hell.

"We should go swimming," were the words that destroyed his happy little bubble of ignorance. "It would be a good idea to get some practise in," were the nails that sealed his coffin shut.

Fucking Pidge, he thinks. Fucking Shiro. Fucking everyone.

"Lance? You okay buddy?"

Lance looks up from his definitely-not-sulking sulking position to look at Hunk with a practised quizzical look. "Of course I'm okay," he answers, a whine on the edges of his voice. "I'm always okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

Hunk raises his hands in sign of surrender, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just askin', man. You haven't touched the water since we got here."

Lance sighs through his nose and twists his face into something resembling a smirk. "Why, Hunk, is this what I think it is?"

Hunk tilts his head, a small crease on his forehead, and says, "Uh, and what is that?"

"Are you asking me to get in the water with you, Hunk? Oh Hunk, I am truly flattered, but as you know, I only see you as a friend, my dear Hunk! Oh, I am so sorry for breaking your little heart…"

Hunk turns and walks away, throwing an unimpressed glance over his shoulder.

Good, Lance thinks. He's fine like this: alone, on what he has designated as His Rock, and with his phone and sunscreen at the ready. He lies down and relaxes into his towel, yearning for the blessed minutes he's going to get in napping, and is just about to drift off…

Splash!

He frowns. He was pretty sure Shiro and the others were on the other side of the beach.

He shrugs and doesn't even bother to open his eyes.

Splash!

He groans and shakes his head. Fuck you too, he mentally tells whoever-

Splash!

He splutters and moves three seconds too late, and is soaked to the bone in less than two. "What the hell?!" he yells, and he feels something brush his feet.

Ah. Shit.

"Lance? Lance, you okay?" Shiro asks from far away, and Lance can imagine the look of fatherly concern he wears: drawn eyebrows, downturned mouth, slightly tilted head.

"'M fine," he yells back, surprised when his voice doesn't actually convey all the panic he's feeling at the moment. "Just fine."

He raises one shaky arm in a thumbs up, just in case, but his eyes stay firmly planted on the creature before him: long hair, skin that shimmers with the slightest shift, pretty purple eyes, and gills.

He blinks slowly. Once, twice, thrice, and the merperson from three nights ago stares back at him blankly.

"So you're real," he says smartly. The merperson tilts its head. "I'm not crazy."

"Klrreeh?" it parrots, or at least tries to. It looks confused and a little outraged, and Lance can't honestly believe this is happening. He doesn't know how to deal with this, so he does what he does best in stressful situations: he tries to puff his chest out as best as he can and takes on his Teacher Voice, the one that means serious business is about to go down.

"No," Lance says. "Crazy. Craaaaaazy. Can you... say that?"

"Kl-rrrreeigh!" it says again, and its shrill is so loud Lance covers his ears.

"Ah, no, this isn't working," he mutters, once his ears stop ringing. He looks back at his friends just to confirm they aren't about to come and catch him trying to give English lessons to a merperson, and then he continues with his terrible idea. "How about we try with something else, yeah? Let's try something else: say hello."

"Jhjeehooh?"

Lance flinches because that voice is just so acute, but it is still a vast improvement from the first word. "Yes, good! Good. Now try to say Lance!"

"Ighnhss?"

It looks so proud, Lance doesn't have the heart to correct it.

He's honestly having so much fun with this. When he moved here, he never thought he'd ever be in this position.

Giving impromptu classes to a merperson.

A merperson who probably tried to kill him.

He halts in the middle of saying awesome!, his heart on his throat and a weird, dark, and murky feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Shit," he says to no-one in particular. "I'm talking to a mermaid."

It brightens a little, and then his look turns sour. "No… Marmag. Galra."

Lance looks down at it. "Huh? What did you say? Gal-ra?"

"Galra! No mermag. Galra!"

Lance raises his eyebrows. "Galra? That's the name of- your species, right?"

It nods, clearly exited. "Woah," Lance says. "So, Galra, do you have a name?"

"Heh?"

"A name!" Lance points at himself, a proud smile on his face. "I'm Lance."

"Ighnhss!"

"Lance! And you… are?" he tries to convey his question as best as possible, and after a few seconds of confused tension, it points at itself.

"Kleehtch!"

Lance makes a face. "Keith? Sounds human to me."

The now-named Keith frowns. "Galra," it points at itself. "Tulpuhrr," it points at Lance.

"Alright… I think we're getting somewhere now," he says, because he doesn't think he's ready to learn mermaid (Galran?) yet. So he decides to take a page from Pidge's book and ask, "what are your- ah, pronouns?"

It gives him confusion in the form of a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes.

"You know," Lance gestures to himself. "I'm 'he'. You are…"

It points towards itself with the most condensing look lance has ever received from a fish. "No. Kleehtch," it says, and then points at Lance's chest: "Ighnhss."

Lance sighs. "I'm Lance. I'm a he. You…"

Keith stares at him for a long, long moment, and then makes a few angry-sounding whistling and clicking sounds, and disappears.

Lance looks down. He can't see anything other than his own feet and the sand.

"Weird," he mutters. He waits for a few minutes, but Keith appears to not be coming back for a while.

He's suddenly all too aware of everything: his wrinkly fingers, the ringing phone on the rock, and the disturbing lack of the sounds of other people around.

He dries his hands and checks his messages, tries to look for Hunk and finds him lounging on the sand under a palm tree. He dunks his head in water for a second to clear it, and makes the mistake to look over at Shiro and Allura.

He smirks mischievously.

He gets out of the water and gathers his things quickly, doing what he does best and trying not to think too much about Keith and his weird vocal chords and Lance's even weirder reaction to the whole situation.

"HEY, Shiro, how dare you deflower our sweet innocent friend?!"

Lance finds joy and solace in running away from his angry friends, and wishes life could stop being so weird for one goddammed second.

He wishes to Sirius when it appears, as he lets himself be tackled to the ground by an angry Pidge, later, and tries to stop trying to understand his conversation with Keith.

(He talked to a merperson. Holy fucking shit).


End file.
